


Heart as green as weeds

by risinggreatness



Series: Circle 'round the sun [95]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Gen, Non-Graphic Smut, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-13 15:09:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3386297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/risinggreatness/pseuds/risinggreatness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bee throws her heart into everything she does (not EU compliant)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heart as green as weeds

The second day is almost more difficult than the first.

It’s like Bee and Sam are afraid to let go of each other’s hands as they walk up the Temple stairs behind Pres, but they have to do it. They have to be brave. They’re padawans now after all.

Bee doesn’t look over her shoulder as she heads down a different corridor than Sam.

Master Rollo waits for her in an empty room, already meditating.

“Sorry I’m late –”

“Do not apologize; simply relax and find your peace.”

Bee sits, crossing her legs, and tries to block everything out, but it isn’t as easy as three days ago – still the youngling.

She fights the temptation to squirm, but without the wilder Sam beside her, it’s not easy to find her poise.

She needs to get this right though and she worries Master Rollo will find her lacking. Bee was extraordinarily pleased when Master Rollo, a cornerstone of the Temple’s wisdom, came to her to take her on. Now she finds herself doubting.

Bee’s skills as a youngling do not match what she should be as a padawan.

“Padawan Breha…” Bee cracks an eye open; Master Rollo’s are still closed. “You are not finding peace,” her master states the obvious.

Bee lets out a huff of ‘duh.’

Master Rollo opens her eyes at that. “What troubles you?”

What _doesn’t_?

“How am I supposed to find peace when I haven’t had to look for it before? Meditating with Master Ahsoka was about finding the Force, but that’s not peace, is it?”

“No, it is not, but they are very close,” Master Rollo notes.

“That’s what Master Yoda’s said –”

“You’ve spoken to Master Yoda?” Master Rollo interjects, a little sharply.

“Yes…” Bee answers slowly. “I mean not a lot, but we – Sam, Pres, Shmi, and me – all have seen him once or twice.”

Master Rollo turns away; Bee cranes from her position to see her master’s face, when she realizes what’s happening.

( _All the masters from the old guard knew him – he was their first understanding of the Force. And they all thought he died when they were left to carry on._ )

Bee stares demurely at her hands, thinking on her master’s sadness, on her own frustrations and fears. When Master Rollo turns back to face Bee, there are tears in the corners of her eyes.

“I am glad he returns for our new younglings,” Master Rollo says, still choked up, though there is a tinge of true joy.

A kind of peace.

“And I want to do well. For you and for him.” After a moment, “And for me.”

“That is what I want to hear from you. I believe you will exceed all expectations,” Master Rollo assures her.

Bee won’t find her peace today, but she will try to borrow Master Rollo’s for the time.

\----------

Though not as vocal in her dedication to the ship, Bee loves it no less than her siblings. Like mom, there’s a quiet appreciation for the place. After all, dad loves reminding her that her first shaky steps were in the Falcon’s corridors; Sam scrambling after her.

The power of the engines hums as Bee flexes her hands around the steering. The reverberations through her body are not unlike the Force, which will make learning all the easier.

Not that she expected it to be too difficult; a small bubble of dread held inside her dissipates. Last of them all to learn to fly, Bee worried she wouldn’t love flying the old freighter as dad does; hunger for it like Sam.

( _Sam never mentioned anything about it being so like Jedi training, but then again – it’s Sam. Bee might have read it off her twin if she’d tried._ )

Dad plays at being relaxed, but he’s attentive as ever when it comes to his ship and his children. When she senses him leaning forward to adjust her grip, she corrects herself preemptively. Bee thrives under scrutiny; ready to prove she can perfect anything effortlessly.

Well, almost anything.

A new nervous bubble switches places with the old, but she needs to ask someone who has experience. It’s harder to get mom alone and she doesn’t have the same close relationship with Master Rollo. Not yet, anyway.

Bee licks her lips.

“When did you know you were in love with mom?”

Dad raises an eyebrow, but looks considered, “Big question. _You’re_ not in love with someone already, are you?”

Bee squirms, “I’m not in love – at least, I don’t think so, but I do really like someone and I don’t know what to do.”

She sounds a little desperate; a blessing and a curse. She likes to sound confident, but if dad remembers she’s a kid and will give more advice, so be it.

Dad leans back in the copilot’s seat, thoughtful, “Shoot.”

“There’s another padawan at the Temple,” dad nods, as if the object of Bee’s still-young affection could be from anywhere else, “and she’s older than me so she isn’t really in the Temple much anymore. But when she is, she’s always so nice and smart and –”

Bee doesn’t want to say how Allyse makes her want to melt, admit she wouldn’t be taken seriously because she’s just some kid; hastily brushing the tears collecting in her eyes away.

“You’re twelve, for gods’ sake,” a voice in her head whispers. “Mom and dad didn’t know each other when they were twelve.”

Dad’s arms are around her before she realizes; the ship thrown into idle. He doesn’t say anything; Bee continues to sniffle.

She pulls away, ready to breath in again.

Dad half-smiles at her, “Wanna go someplace I haven’t taken Pres or Sam yet?”

Weakly chuckling, “Are you trying to distract me?”

Self-assured “It’s gonna work. Let’s see how you do on the Kessel Run.”

\----------

Reason doesn’t come into account with Allyse. Crushes aren’t reasonable, Bee reminds herself constantly. Reconciling within herself is another story.

Still, she harbors hope against hope; her heart fluttering against her ribs.

She and Master Rollo pass through the Temple; Bee runs for the ever-growing archives.

“Damn, where is it?” she mutters, looking for the volume her master requested.

“Looking for this?” Allyse’s friend Katya offers.

“Yeah, thanks.”

Fingers hold a little longer than they should.

Bee’s heart beats easier these days; unnoticed, but not forgotten.

\----------

Even if it means getting up earlier than everyone else ( _which Bee truly hates_ ), alone time with mom is worth every second.

Mom runs her hands through Bee’s hair, separating it into heavy strands, the brush catching tangles and knots. Bee loves watching mom’s face pull together in concentration and focus.

( _Though not often, there were reminders for her and Sam mom once sat in their place for her mother. She must wish she had more time like this with her mother._ )

At the thought of her grandmother, Bee breaks the early morning silence, “So why aren’t you queen in your own right?”

Mom looks up at their reflections, frowning slightly. They’d been over this before, but an explanation for a child isn’t the same as one for a fourteen year-old.

Mom stops brushing.

“When my parents realized they wouldn’t have children of their own, there was a push to consider my aunt or uncles as the heir, but they all made a promise as children to make Alderaan a true democracy. It seemed like the right time to act on that promise from mother’s perspective and father certainly did all he could to encourage the idea.”

Mom’s smile is private, but Bee recognizes it as special, saved only for remembrances of her Organa grandparents.

She resumes brushing, “But then I came along, putting the council in a tailspin. My parents wore them down so I held the title befitting a queen’s daughter, but not the power.”

“Just the power of two extremely wealthy and influential aristocratic families,” Bee notes.

Mom chuckles, “Exactly.”

Still, it eludes Bee that mom should have two mothers who held their systems’ crowns in their hands and yet she remains so very _mom_.

“You could have been elected queen by Alderaan,” Bee points out.

“Not by a long shot. As long as it took Alderaan to dismantle their monarchy, I am grateful we are not Naboo.”

( _When they were kids, Bee, Sam, Pres, and Shmi snuck away and touched their grandmother’s scepter. Next to those of the queens and king who followed, it was impossibly large, which hadn’t made sense at the time._ )

“Grandmother Padmé still got to be elected senator. You could have done both.”

Mom nudges her, dismantling some of Bee’s pinned loops; Bee hastens to catch them before they undo themselves completely.

“You really are fixed on this today, aren’t you – unbridled pretentions of greatness. Don’t let anyone say you aren’t your father’s daughter.”

“Mom,” Bee moans.

The grin on mom’s face dims some.

“I don’t pretend to know everything about Grandmother Padmé’s life, but Naboo used to put a great deal of power into the hands of its monarchs. I would have been terrified to have been charged with it at the age she took it.”

“Younger than I am now,” Bee thinks to herself, reminded of the dead and solemn face at the palace at Theed.

“I’ve done what I can to make sure your Grandmother Breha’s law applies to you; to make sure you and your brother and sister can do what you truly want to. And I don’t think ‘queen’ is locked in your sights,” mom says sympathetically.

“Nah, just Jedi princess,” Bee jokes, a reminder of what mom used to call her and Sam when they were younger, sending Sam into fits.

“You and your sister certainly do want the same thing,” mom half-serious, half-kidding agrees.

Bee feels an unexpected pang of realization in her throat.

She and Sam have always reached for the same thing; the same cannot be said for mom and Uncle Luke. How can they share the deep connection Bee knows to be fundamental to herself and Sam, and still be so far apart?

Bee fights back a wave of tears at the tragedy of it.

Mom, finishing her handiwork, notices Bee’s sharp change of mood. She squeezes her hand; placing a kiss on her cheek, the message plain.

“Don’t worry; whatever it is. I am here.”

\----------

Mud squelches in Bee’s boots; it will only get worse as the mission progresses.

It’s difficult to see through the fog and the rain and the trees, though she has a vague sense of Pres behind her, still higher up. ( _Ysanne still further off._ )

Bee wasn’t worried about being sent off on a mission without Master Rollo ( _the masters are only just in orbit above the system_ ), but the nerves begin to set in. What could three padawans do on their own with two feuding mining factions?

Cause a lot more issues apparently.

Ysanne already left to retrieve the shuttle, leaving Bee and Pres to be chased off by a third party.

Bee pauses in her run to catch her breath, gasping and fogging in front of her in the rainy chill.

The clatter of water droplets on leaves does not disguise Pres thundering down the slope in the woods and the unmistakable sound of blaster shots, then deflection off Pres’s lightsaber.

Bee reignites her own, the blue unnatural against the green and orange foliage.

She waits for the fight to come to her, where she and her brother can be stronger in numbers.

“Shit!” Pres yells from much closer than Bee anticipates. He slams into her; knocking both of them to the ground.

Blood on her robes tells Bee they’ll be running for cover. As they get up, Bee takes the lead, grabbing Pres’s arm and looking for anything to get them away from their pursuers. To get away from the rain and figure out what’s wrong with Pres.

An overhanging rock barely does its work for the rain, but puts the others off the trail.

Bee realizes how hard she’s breathing. She looks down and sees the source of spilled blood; a gaping wound in Pres’s hand.

Silently she digs at her belt for a med kit and begins quickly wrapping Pres’s hand in bandages. When she gestures for his to supplement, Pres shrugs.

When they are sure they are alone, Pres steps out from under the shelter and stretches.

“That isn’t a blaster wound.”

“No. I sort of accidentally stabbed myself on one of those plants.”

Bee shouldn’t be surprised, but doesn’t disguise the annoyance in her voice, “And you didn’t bring your med kit.”

Defensively, “I did! It just got lost.”

Bee sighs. Pres flexes his bandaged hand.

“Not bad. Of course you’d get good at this to show me up.”

“You’re not exactly proving you can handle a mission by yourself. You walked into a plant, Pres?”

In a raised voice, “I didn’t walk! In case you forgot, we were just being chased and were gonna get killed. So I ran into a plant because I was concentrating on not having my head shot off.”

In a mollifying tone, “Hey, hey, they might still be out there.”

Pres stops his rant, shoulders slumped forward. Bee stands up, out from under the rock and into the rain.

“Don’t let it get too wet,” she reminds him quietly, in no mood to press the issue further. She begins stomping through the undergrowth back to the shuttle.

It doesn’t take Pres long to catch up. Stride for stride, he offers a simple ‘thanks.’

Bee would have done more for less.

When they make it back to the shuttle, Ysanne lowers the ramp.

“I’ll take us off this gods-forsaken system,” Pres volunteers.

Bee’s left standing, dripping cold in the hold with Ysanne.

Alone, Ysanne greets her properly.

“Glad you made it back in one piece.”

Face buried in Ysanne’s shoulder, “Yeah, me too.”

\----------

Trying not to feel despondent is difficult, but there are ways around the boughts of misery.

Bee likes a secluded corner of the top of the Temple. She is surprised when she finds Ahsoka there.

“I’m not intruding, am I?”

“Not at all.” Ahsoka pats the spot next to her; Bee finds herself in a meditative position.

“What did you come up here to think about?” Ahsoka asks, though Bee is sure she knows the answer already.

“This breakup sucks,” is the best Bee can manage. ( _She thinks it really sucks she doesn’t even miss Ysanne all that much._ )

Ahsoka nods. “It probably does. Breakups usually do.”

Bee looks at Ahsoka quizzically. She’s known Ahsoka her whole life and she never knew Ahsoka had experience with this sort of thing.

At her odd look, Ahsoka answers the unasked question, “Well, I’ve never been in a ‘relationship’ like you were, but there’ve been times with Saw.”

Bee is floored, “General Guerra?”

He’s just so… not for Ahsoka.

Ahsoka laughs a little, and shrugs nonchalantly, “War makes strange bedfellows.”

Bee’s tone is matter of fact, “So you’re not in love with him?”

Ahsoka sighs and looks out, “I do love him, but no, I’m not _in_ love. Probably some block I have from what I was raised to believe, regardless of what we do now.”

Even with the severance, Bee is sure she was at least in love with Ysanne once.

“That’s really sad you’ve never been in love.” She sounds impossibly young to herself when she says it.

“I never said I’ve never been in love.”

Bee’s curiosity is too strong; eager to learn about the woman who is as responsible for raising her as her parents.

“What happened?”

Ahsoka doesn’t speak for a long time. Bee wishes she hadn’t asked.

“He wasn’t in love with me, but we found each other at a bad time. I suppose looking back it was a crush, but that’s being in love, isn’t it?”

Bee watches a rush of old feelings on Ahsoka’s face, in her posture; long buried, though not forgotten. Now she sounds as young and as vulnerable as Bee feels.

“Maybe it is.” Bee doesn’t know if it’s the answer, but it could be.

Another long silence. The wind from the heights of the Temple rushes past Bee’s ears, bringing no answer.

Ahsoka finally speaks; her voice sounds dry, “Anyway, you heal. You move on.”

It is the salve for Bee’s still broken heart.

\----------

The climb up the Temple steps is lonesome, but the presence of her sister dashes behind her, catching up in strides.

Without turning around, “Where were you?” _Where have you been the past few days?_

Sam shrugs, “Down at the Academy.”

Bee raises an eyebrow. That wasn’t the answer she expected. Sam must have been blocking her out, but _why_?

“Cute boys?” Bee remarks dryly.

“Haha,” Sam responds with equal sarcasm. She gnaws at her lower lip, then quietly, kicking at a step with her boot, “I tried out for Rogue.”

Bee feels her throat constrict.

_Why? Why did it need to be a secret?_

“Thanks for asking how I did,” Sam notes bitterly, “I made it, by the way, but apparently you think I’m trying to keep everything from you.”

Anger building in her own voice, “That’s not –”

“I wanted to see if I could do it. See if there was something in our lives we’d do differently, but apparently my heart’s not in it.” _I want to be a Jedi as badly as you do._

Sam’s defensive indignation peters as she goes on; all the way to their silent connection.

“Sam, I’m so sorry –”

Gruffly, “Don’t apologize to me, just congratulate Shmi.”

Realization washes over her, “You both went.”

Sam waves a noncommittal hand, “She hasn’t – the stuff with her mom and grandparents…”

_You don’t know everything, Bee Solo._

( _Of course they think the same thing._ )

 _Just don’t say anything about her family thing_ , Sam pleads.

Sam jogs all the way up, leaving Bee behind.

She catches Shmi in a joyful hug when she sees her later that day.

There’s another for Sam when they arrive home that night.

\----------

She doesn’t open her eyes completely right away, preferring to let the night skyline filter through her eyelashes.

“I like your hair. Wish I had some,” Katya murmurs.

Bee doesn’t turn around, but curls tighter into her. She runs her hand along Katya’s arm, slung over her, feeling the short hairs stand on end. Katya shudders, though not unpleasantly.

“You do,” Bee contradicts.

Katya makes a laughing noise into her shoulder. Still as hazy as Bee, “I mean all golden.”

Bee descends into giggles, “Consequence of being Skywalker.”

Sarcastically, “Right, how could I forget?”

Bee turns to face Katya properly, propping herself up on her elbows. She takes in the sight before her, the woman she’s known through her tumultuous teenage years, fallen in love with in the past year, making up for their lost time.

Haughtily, though unable to hold back a grin, “I really don’t know.”

Katya is suddenly much more serious, “Is this family thing going to be as overwhelming as I think it’ll be?”

Bee purses her lips. They are her family: large, loud, sharp, and united. As a whole, she recognizes why Katya is tentative of them.

But they are open and catch those who fall by the wayside. They taught her love and now she wants to share that love with Katya.

**Author's Note:**

> See author bio for discussion on this 'verse.


End file.
